Lately I've been wondering if women diet for themselves, or for society. When I think back three years ago to when I was 130 lbs. and eating like a mouse, I thought that I was losing weight to become who I always thought I was meant to be. In reality all I wanted was to belong, and to feel like I truly belonged in the world. When that lifestyle collapsed in on me, I felt like society didn't want me anymore.

Girls are raised to see themselves as nothing but imperfection.

After telling myself for so long that I wasn't worth a dime, I finally want to find value in myself through someone else. I understand that this is incredibly immature of me to say, but I don't think I can love myself completely until I know I'm capable of being loved.


This was a good reminder to me.
I am not fat, I am free.

Life is good.

I've known my friend Sharlene since ninth grade, but we didn't become close friends until high school. We did, however share a Spanish 2 class in middle school.

Let me share with you a journal entry she shared with me:

"The other funny thing was the next day in Spanish class. We were doing baloncesto, which is this little quiz thing with basketball. It was my friend, Alyson Ludlow's turn. She was up to the board and her question was "Cual es once por once?" (11 x 11). She wrote una milla which means a mile. When everyone started laughing she erased it. Then she wrote 66 because she thought that "once" was 18, but that still doesn't make sense because 18 x 18 DOES NOT equal 66! So then she put 64, thinking it was 8. Then she finally realized that "once" meant 11 so she she started to multiply them! I thought this was funny because she didn't know her simple times tables. To make things better, she came up with 112 instead of 121. But she eventually got it. The funny part was that her opponent never got it even though she took forever. Now I make fun of her saying that 11 x 11= one mile."

Let me just clarify that I hate math and I hated my Spanish teacher so I didn't really study. Don't judge, conjugations and times tables are hard...especially in a different language!

Ninth grade was the year before I lost control of myself. I was confident...even when I looked like an idiot!

I'm glad that I'm able to look back and remember who I was pre-eating disorder; I think I'm finally coming back, but this time new and improved. 

Disclaimer: Sharlene isn't nearly as bratty as she was in ninth grade :)


Today I saw my weight for the first time in months on accident at a doctor's appointment and it crushed me. Honestly, I thought I was past calling myself "ugly" and "fat", isn't it interesting how a number can dissolve all you believed yourself to be?

I found my school photo from Junior year, I almost didn't recognize myself. I tried to find sadness and insecurities in her eyes, but there were none. Little did she know at the time that her life would be turned upside down in only a matter of months. I'm jealous of her ignorance, and for that I hate her. She caused this whole mess. Her stupid obsession of becoming who she thought she was meant to be ruined who she already was. Sure, it felt great feeling comfortable in her own skin for once in her life; it was best life she had ever experienced. The longer she dieted, the stronger her will became. Her life rotated around looking good, and having other people agree. However, she did lose sight of what really mattered in life; she deluded herself with thoughts of self-righteousness and confidence. She wasn't me.

I like who I am as a person now, but I do wish I could look different.
As much as I hate her, I want to be her again.

Inner Strength

J.R.R. Tolkien once said, "It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit."

Lately I've been having more and more self-esteem issues, and honestly, I'm getting tired of dealing with myself. I know that my body has limitations and weaknesses, but I just can't seem to accept myself as I should.

I have definitely let my week center around negative thoughts. I feel like an outcast among my friends; I just want to be left alone.

Have you ever just wished that you could find a hiding place where no one could find you? It wouldn't be anything fancy, just a small, quiet place to be at peace with yourself and be free from the judgments of others.

I know that these feelings of depression won't last forever, but it's always so easy to only see the negative embers in the eternal fires of our lives.

I know that my life is not my own, but the Lord's. I am constantly be polished, molded and mended. Right now I am broken, but one day I will be whole.

Despite how many times I may stray on my journey to perfection, fear for my life, or question God, I know that I have the strength within myself to carry on.


For a long time I thought that I was committing a sin by having an eating disorder. I felt like I could never completely repent or become who God wanted me to be.

A few months ago I was so overwhelmed by guilt and worry that I decided to talk to my bishop about what was going on in my life. The first thing he told me was that I was forgiven and that my Father in Heaven loved me very much.

To this day I don't think that this eating disorder was a sin, but rather a trial filled with guilt. However, I did feel like a sinner before I finally started to heal, especially when I would secretly binge or purge.

I believe that unseen forces were constantly pushing upon me for both good and evil.

I know that the atonement is real. I know that the Savior was supporting me as I carried my cross up my own Calvary.

A Grateful Heart

As I was walking from class today a thought crossed my mind; someone at this moment could be wishing to have my life in order to escape theirs. What right do I have to complain about a healthy, functional body when there are some who cannot walk or move. What right do I have to complain about seeing myself in the mirror when there are those who cannot see. Who am I to put my trials above those of an abused or orphaned child? 

Much like Christ we all have our crosses to bear. No individual goes throughout life without becoming chipped or broken a few times...some more than others. 

During the beginning of my disorder, I was able to serve as a mentor in a Special Needs Mutual group. This experience helped me look outside of myself and my trials. My friend, Jenae, taught me that happiness is essential to endurance and that love should always be given freely. No trial is too large and no burden is too heavy. Despite her physical situation, she was always concerned about those around her. She loved to smiling, chocolate and country music. She lived her life and made sure that everyone else enjoyed theirs. Surely she must have seen her fair share of sadness in life, but she didn't let it dictate her existence. I can't begin to say how much her hugs and smiles held me together during that time. Her strength strengthened me. 

I owe my outlook on life to my mother. 

From when I was diagnosed with Diabetes, didn't make the cut for my high school soccer team, and when I felt like I didn't have a friend in the world, she was always there. Although annoying at times, she was always quick to remind me that "life could be worse". As I've grown up, I now appreciate her words and understand them; after all, she hasn't lived a perfect life either.

Life really isn't what we make it, but what we make of it. 


During the past week I had to go without taking anti-depressants due to my prescription running out. I thought I could handle a few days on my own, but I guess I'm still a little shaky. I definitely felt the urge to snack more and, well, I did. Actually, I'm snacking on slice of bread with raisins and peanut butter plus a cup of soy milk hot chocolate as I 2:30am....

I know I've mentioned before that I'm scared that this disease, this disorder will follow me throughout my life. Times like this always reawaken those fears. In all honesty, nothing terrible has happened over the past seven days. I mean, I practically scarfed down an entire family-size bag of Frootie Tooties on my own, but aside from that I've been maintaining myself fairly well. Dr. Spigorelli has told me countless times that one day I'll be able to look back and not remember the last time I binged. I think I'm slowly getting there, but honestly, I just want to get to a point where I can eat like a normal person for a day, or at least feel "normal" for an instant.

My biggest problem is that I often allow objects or opinions to determine my happiness.

I'm nervous for my future and frustrated at myself. Healing physically is one thing, while healing mentally is a completely different ball game. I guess that's what I'm scared of, never being able to recover mentally from this disease. I've always had my insecurities, but I've allowed this eating disorder to make mountains out of molehills. 

I'm certain that one day I will be in a better place.
I'm just not sure who I'll be when I get there.
Or how long it will take. 


Yesterday I talked to girls from my church young women's group about my eating disorder. I tried to emphasize just how grateful I was for this trial in my life. Of course, during the middle of this disorder I couldn't find anything to be grateful for in my life; afterall,  I hated myself, my parents, and my God. I realize now that I was able to survive this ordeal because I tried to focus on the future, rather than the present. Nothing lasts forever and a bright morning will always follow our darkest nights.

I remember during this time I said some of my strongest and most powerful prayers. Despite my anger towards God, I never wanted to turn my back on Him. I knew He was my salvation. I can remember instances when I would cry myself to sleep and feel a physical hand upon my shoulder. The warmth that came from that hand was beyond expression, I knew someone was there.

I used to go to the temples in my hometown and cry to God for help. I felt him the strongest there, and as a result, I often found myself in earnest conversations with the Lord. At times, I could feel His direct responses to my questions and worries. While I was there, I never felt alone or misunderstood. 
Although no specific instance caused me to turn from this disorder, or immediately become healed, I felt as if they were my stepping stones to recovery and resurrection of testimony.

I can testify that my prayers were answered throughout this trial. The answers, of course, came in the Lord's time not my own, but answers did come. God always gave me options and inspiration. I knew that He wanted me to heal more so than I wanted to become healed myself. 

I guess the big idea that I'm trying to share is that during our time on earth, we feel abandoned and alone at many moments throughout our lives. Sometimes our trials seem too heavy to carry and often misunderstood by those around us. I want to bear my testimony that we never walk alone and that no human has ever walked alone upon the face of this earth. 

Jesus Christ and our Father in Heaven are always walking beside us.

Christ had to walk alone during his tenure on earth, and personally, I don't think he wants anyone to feel as alone as He did while walking the hill to Calvary with a cross upon His back. 

He loves us, He knows us, and He is more than willing to save us. 


I minorly binged today and I'm not sure why.
Ah, c'est la vie....even though it shouldn't be.

A word to the wise: 
Muffins, raisins, ramen, bread and milk don't go very well together.


A friend of mine in my single's ward mentioned today that "you never realize how fragile life is until it is broken".

After hearing this, it caused me to look back on moments in my life when the very ground I stood on seemed to collapse below me. The winter of my Junior year was definitely one of the darkest and hopeless times of my life. My reality of being 129 lbs. and "beautiful" was completely gone. I had focused my life, my goals, and happiness around a number; once it changed, who I thought I was shattered before my eyes.

I attempted to piece my emotions back together by using food as "glue" to contain my inner-self. For brief moments during binges, I felt happy. I was carefree. Of course my insecurities never left, but for a moment I was distracted from who I was and what I was doing. I was a broken individual for a long time. I tried my hardest to keep up appearances and to plaster a smile on my face. I guess I didn't want to shatter whatever image those around me had of who I was or used to be either.

Harder times came whenever I would relapse and go back into my self-destructive habits. My vision of progress would disappear and the ugly reality I had been living would resurface. One experience that almost crushed the remaining shards of my existence happened during a choir trip to San Francisco this past spring.

I thought that I had finally reached a level point in my life. I knew I was still walking a tightrope, but I felt I was finally balancing my cravings and the disorder.  On one of the last nights of our trip, my choir friends decided to go swimming in the hotel pool. I was so ashamed of my body that I didn't even bring a swimsuit with me on the trip. So, while everyone was out having fun, I locked myself in a room. I ended eating not only my food, but the food of my roommates as well. I felt so sick afterwards, spiritually and physically. I was embarrassed that I had stooped so low as to steal other people's food. I was mad that I was so weak after all of the progress I had made. I was lost on what I should do, and how I should feel. I eventually broke down and left our hotel room to cry on the outside staircase. It was terrible night.

I called my mom for help, and I think that if I hadn't I would still be in a mess today. As I was sobbing to her over the phone, she listen to my fears, my complaints and my tears. One thing she said still sticks out to me to this day. After I finished telling her what had happened, she said, "Alyson, this isn't you". Although I was still upset over what had happened, that comment had been an answer to my silent prayers that night. I was scared that I had become an eating disorder. However, I knew my mom was right. I was person, I had values, and I had worth; an eating disorder wouldn't ever be able to change my soul.

I wish I could say this instance was my last bingeing episode, but it wasn't. It took months after my trip to San Francisco to pick myself up and feel confident in my progress again.  Although I haven't had a "true" binge since June of this year, I'm still fragile and I'm still broken.

I've decided that this is one of the hardest battles I am ever going to face in my life.

But in the end, I won't be the damsel in distress...I'm going to be the hero.


While living on-campus at BYU, I've started to wonder where healthy practices turn to obsessions or societal pressures. Mormon culture can be difficult to explain when it comes to body image. We claim that everyone is a child of God and that as His children, we are all equals among each other. We also seek to become the best that we can be while we're on this earth. Unfortunately, in many Mormon societies, a massive emphasis is placed on physical appearance rather than spiritual equality. In fact, Utah is ranked as one of the highest states for superficial beauty as well as being known as one of the largest plastic surgery industries in the nation.

In all honesty, its no wonder that so many girls (including myself) have low self-esteem. We expect too much of ourselves, and we can't accept our realities as good. "Expectation is the root of all heartache."

Whenever I walk to my classes, a football game, to the store, or even to my car, I see at least one girl on campus running. I have to admit, I am a little jealous that they have the motivation and time to even exercise! However, for some girls it becomes an obsession. A performance that they want other people to see. Rather than the campus being academically competitive, many focus on keeping it physically competitive. ("Dress-Sized")

I've heard girls from out of state tell me that boys in Utah are really finicky when it come to girls. She has to be a certain way, and more so look a certain way. I'm certain this isn't true for all LDS boys in the state, but again, at least on campus, appearance is everything. Their ideal girl seems to be 125 lbs, long hair, clear skin, and petite.   

During my experiences battling my own insecurities concerning my body, I've had many chances to contemplate the value that I have as an individual. Obviously, I don't fit the standards of today's world, or even BYU society. What am worth if I can't fit in?

"But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart."
Samuel 16: 7

"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight." 
1 Peter 3: 3-4 (New International Version Bible)

Whenever I reach my lowest points, I try to remind myself that:

1. I like who I am.
2. My body was a gift.
3. I must be worth something, because my Savior died for me.

Sometimes it can be really hard to see yourself as God does, rather than what society thinks of you. Every soul is beautiful, we just came to earth in different packages.

I struggle everyday with my appearance and trying to see the beauty that is within me. I'm grateful to have the trial of an eating disorder in my life, it has refined me and how I see the world.

I may never fit the standards that society has set, but why should I care? The only opinions that matter are mine and the Lord's.

I know that when I follow His standards, I am never inadequate.


Having gone from being an extremely restrictive eater to a binge eater, I still find myself subconsciously counting calories and fighting urges to eat everything in sight, despite the progress that I've made over the past two years.

I've been told that an eating disorder is a form of disease that, with help, can be cured. However, I feel like I'm never going to be completely separated from this demon that seems to follow me everywhere I go...I've learned that medication and determination can only take me so far.

I really believe that an eating disorder can physically be cured, I consider myself living proof;
but, I don't think that I'll ever be mentally cured.

These disorders will haunt me for the rest of my life and relapse will forever be on my horizon.
This is more than a disorder or a disease, this is my personal demon. 


Gosh, I can't believe how much love I've been able to feel today. For years I was scared to tell anyone about what I was going through, I was ashamed of myself and embarrassed at who I had let myself become.

I guess I just didn't want people to see me as an eating disorder, rather than a person.  I didn't want to become a rumor or a charity case.

I've decided that my high school years were an almost impossible time to be myself, it's almost like a social prison. I didn't want my past to be stamped on my forehead until I graduated and I didn't want to become a prisoner to my peers.

 College is seriously the best, its a fresh start, a clean slate.

I want to take the time to thank my high school friends for all that they've done for me. Most of them probably had no idea how much they raised me up and gave me a reason to keep living. All of them reminded me that I wasn't alone.

My dad once told me the successful in life surround themselves with the best people. I know the main reason I was able to heal was because I was truly surrounded by the best people during one of the hardest times in my life.

I know my trial is far from over, but at least now I know that my eating disorder doesn't define who I am.

However, my friends do.

Doodles and Depression

During one of the hardest stages of living with an eating disorder, I tried to find ways to cope with my emotions other than turning to food. I have always loved to draw, but I just stopped in middle school; It must have been one of those "If I want to be popular I need to conform to the crowd" moments.

As I began to draw, I surprisingly got better, and better. I put my emotions into my work, which helped me find purpose in what I was doing. In all honesty, the only thing that can completely calm me down and distract me from the world is drawing.

I think it is so amazing that I was able to harvest a talent during one of the most trying times of my life. I like to think of it as a tender mercy given to me by my Father in Heaven.

From something terrible came something incredibly wonderful...I guess that's life. The good and the bad usually come hand-in-hand.


Well, I actually survived high school; in all honesty, it was a longshot. Senior year was definitely better than Junior year, and for that I'm glad. A few months ago, my therapist, Elaine Cheung, introduced me to Michael Spigarelli. Mike was the answer to every prayer I've had over the past few years. I don't know why things clicked with him, but I think part of me knew that he was my last chance for help. He's seriously a great person, I admire him so much. He definitely isn't afraid to talk your ear off, but the information he gives you is worth way more than a missing ear. I can't say that I'm 'cured' yet, but life has gotten easier. I still overeat occasionally, but the binges are pretty much ancient history. I'm not trying to count my chickens before they hatch, but I know that I've changed.

Before I thought I was a worthless individual. Throughout middle school and high school I placed value on a scale that weighed beauty. I thought that I was at my happiest when I went on a restrictive diet and lived off of celery sticks and crystal light. In all honesty, that was such a miserable time in my life. I didn't value who I was as a thinking human being, but rather as an object that everyone could/should admire. My motto seemed to be, "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels". Now that I look back, I've realized that the only thing that dieting will make you feel is hungry.

I'll admit that I would seriously love to naturally be a size 4 and have no reason to feel insecure about my body. However, I need to accept who I am eternally, and in the present. Numbers don't determine your worth, but your actions towards others do.

Throughout the past years, I haven't been able to let go of an experience I had after I had lost weight.
I probably shouldn't name names, but In ninth grade (before I lost weight) I had a massive crush on this guy, B. I thought he was amazing in every single way (mostly because I was overlooking his faults). He showed some interest, but the next year when I had starved myself down a few pant sizes, everything changed. He told me I was beautiful, that I dressed well, that I didn't need to lose the weight--but I look great now, he serenaded me with songs while he played his guitar, he texted me, he tried to be around me, he blushed when he saw me,  and he even attempted to ask me to be his girlfriend.

I thought about him all the time, I really grew attached. Sixth months later when I gained 50 pounds, he was gone from my life. No more smiles, no more compliments, nothing.

I hated myself. I hated who I was. I hated him. I hated every boy who had ever lived on the planet.They were all selfish pigs who couldn't overlook a girl's weight. I kept telling myself that if I lost weight again, he would be back in an instant. I told myself that this was my fault, that I was a failure, that I didn't deserve to be loved since I wasn't worth looking at.

My brother-in-law once told me that it's always good to be served a slice of humble pie and I can't agree with him enough. Bouncing from both ends of the eating disorder spectrum, helped me widen my view of the world and of myself. I felt like I had shattered into a million pieces and there was no way to put myself back together. Ultimately, I was the only person who could pick myself off of the floor and become whole again. During the healing process, I had to examine each piece of myself including the good, the bad, and the straight out ugly. I'm actually grateful for this experience, it helped me realize who I was, what I valued and what I stood for. I want someone to love me for me, not for how I look at a certain moment in life. Afterall, humans bodies only get weirder when we age...

Raven Simone was recently complimented on losing weight by being told that she was "beautiful". Raven responded "I was always beautiful, now I'm just thin."

I am valuable. I have worth. I like who I am now.

I am beautiful, and no one can take that away from me.


Skinny girls are stylish.
Skinny girls go to Prom.
Skinny girls have all the boys.
While the fat girls have nothing at all.

Skinny girls can be quirky.
Skinny girls can be fun.
Skinny girls are always accepted.
While the fat girls are awkward or wrong.

Skinny girls are normal.
Skinny girls count.
Skinny girls are pretty.

Skinny girls can have dreams.
Skinny girls can go to the gym.
Skinny girls have everything,
because skinny girls are thin.


If I told you who I really was, would you still accept me?

If I told you how I actually felt, would you get angry?
If I missed giving one smile, would you frown?

If I told you everything I'm going through right now, would you sincerely listen?
Or would you forget by tomorrow?

If I said that I wanted to end my own life, would you even care?
Probably not.

Luckily for you, I'm an expert at applying a false face.

Today was another really bad day.  I have no idea what happened...again.

I feel incredibly sick, both physically and mentally.

Sick of myself.
Sick of my weaknesses.
Sick of being controlled.

A friend of mine posted a brave status on Facebook that she took from her 8th grade journal:

"You are officially independent when you stop relying on the acceptance, and attention from others. You are officially independent when realize that no matter how many people compliment you, or insult you, you are still you..."

I can't believe how profound a statement this is. I realize now, that I am not an independent individual. For too long I thrived off of compliments and opinions. When they were all gone, so was I. I wish that I could have realized these simple truths sooner. I am still me whether I'm a size 4 or a borderline size 12. If people only liked me for my outward appearance, then they were never willing to like me for my soul.

I still rely on others more than I should, but I'm fairly certain I was born proud. I was born with insecurities about my appearance, but now, when I'm at my weakest, they're finally eating me up.

I want to be independent.
I want to be proud.
Not of my body, but for who I've become and where I've been.


Today was another hard day.

This morning I attended Stake Conference and really felt inspired by something a speaker said. It was somewhere along the lines of reading your scriptures and praying daily better protects you from sin or temptation.

I tried it, and my afternoon initially went fairly well. I started to fall apart as I became stressed out about studying for a big test I'm taking in a few days. I had forgotten what I had just barely learned.

I binged big time. I took food from my storage room like peanut butter, jam and cookie mix. I ate them. I feel sick.

I think I can handle tomorrow now though. I know what to look out for. Plus, I'm going to be really busy with work, studying, and helping my brother with his homework.

I know I can do this. I stopped bingeing and having pop for an entire two weeks before falling back into a slump. I think exercising and drawing help me manage my depression, while chewing gum and staying downstairs helps me resist cravings.

I think I'm going to set a time limit on how long I have to chew a piece of gum or stay downstairs. That might help me manage my mealtimes and snacks.

I just wish my family was around more for meals. I think it would help me a lot to have people to eat with and to peer pressure me out of overeating.

I also think that I need to stop holding on to the past. The past three days I've struggled with depression, and bitter feelings towards my mom.

As corny as this must sound, I've been finding inspiration in all sorts of things lately. Tonight, for example, I watched The Lion King on ABC Family. One part really stuck out to me:

Simba: I know what I have to do. But going back means I'll have to face my past. I've been running from it for so long.
[Rafiki hits Simba on the head with his stick]
Simba: Ow! Jeez, what was that for?
Rafiki: It doesn't matter. It's in the past.
Simba: Yeah, but it still hurts.
Rafiki: Oh yes, the past can hurt. But the from way I see it, you can either run from it, or... learn from it.
[swings his stick again at Simba, who ducks out of the way]
Rafiki: Ha. You see? So what are you going to do?

What am I going to do?

Try to follow these wise words, from a wise monkey.

Like Simba said:

I finally got some sense knocked into me. And I've got the bump to prove it.

The Perks of

"We accept the love we think we deserve."

I've always put myself down. I guess I haven't ever completely loved myself.
When I was younger, I would look at myself in the mirror and say,
"You have a good body, but an ugly face".

Now all I see is someone who isn't worthy of receiving anything from anyone.
Nothing about me is good.

I think that sometimes we also give ourselves the life we think we deserve, even if it isn't true. It's human nature to cut ourselves short. For some, it can be a crippling, and chronic disability.

I often wonder if I have depression. It seems like depression isn't a disease given to a select few. Everyone has it, but it manifests itself when we're at our lowest. When we want to fall into nothingness. When we want to forget our insignificance in the world.

Sometimes I can't help but get mad. I get upset that no one seems to understand me. No one seems to want or know how to help me. They criticized me in the past for being cautious, but now they yell at me for giving in.

What do you expect of me?

I get that two people who are drowning can't save each other. Ironically enough, they probably don't even notice the other person struggling beside them.

I just want to be happy again.
Truly, happy.

Was I happy before this happened?
Or was it just so different from what I was before that I accepted it as happiness?

I really do put on a good face for those around me.
I don't understand why society seems to expect everyone to be a certain way.
Not physically, but emotionally.
It's considered taboo to show up at school and actually tell people how you feel.
Or even to let it show on your face.

Guys always want girls that are just a smile.
I guess girls are the same way.
Who would ever want to help another person carry their baggage?

I probably should be more optimistic.
I probably should be a lot of things.

Well, what are you going to do about it?

Alyson Wonderland

I'm not really sure what happened today.

I guess part of my problem was that I stayed upstairs to help my brother with his homework when I should have gone to my room.

I definitely ate more than I should have. I ate a ton from 4:00pm-5:00pm. Then snacked on cheese until I had dinner at 6:00pm. Then I went to a church activity, came home, and ate more. Now I'm about to go to bed and I feel disgusting.

I know I'll just have to pick myself back up tomorrow, but I can't believe I let myself fall back into old habits. I also had two diet sodas today too.

Another broken goal.

I think I just gave up after I realized what I had done. I don't feel very well so I'm not going to exercise tonight either.

I feel fatter. Not just from the food, but I can tell I'm gaining weight.

My skin feels like the red snowsuit from "The Christmas Story".
Instead of padding, I have thick layers of fat.

I can't move very well, and I feel claustrophobic.
I waddle everywhere.
I'm truly uncomfortable in my own skin.

When I was younger, a girl in my neighborhood bullied me for some reason I can't remember. In reality,  she probably was trying to find some justice on behalf of her brother, but childish remarks are always thought the cruelest during childhood.

She would call me, "Alyson-Wonderland" every time she saw me. For years after, I hated Alice and her "wonder"land.

I've been reading "The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland" by Lewis Carroll for the past couple of days. I actually really like it. I love that Carroll was able to mock the false rationalism that makes up personal thought processes and find humor in the absurdity that we call musings. In a sense, he expresses the fact that we always believe ourselves to sound rather respectable when talking within heads, but in reality, our sense is often not very sensible. It's a book that makes you think about how you think.

A quote from the book reminds me of my situation.

" 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"
"...I'll stay down here! It'll be no use their putting their heads down and saying 'Come up again, dear!' I shall only look up and say 'Who am I, then? Tell me that first, and if I like being that person, I'll come up: if not, I'll stay down here until I'm somebody else'--but oh dear!" cried Alice, with a sudden burst of tears, "I do wish they would put their heads down! I am so very tired of being all alone here!"

I used to think that I knew who I was, but this eating disorder has changed me.
Family and friends have tried to pull me out of my own "rabbit hole", but staying trapped with my thoughts is almost easier than facing reality. 
I wish I was my old self. I liked her, a lot. 

She was thin, fit, smart and witty. 
Fashionable, outgoing, confident, and flirty.
Boys liked her, and she liked herself.

But, I guess I'm going to stay down here with Alice until I become that somebody else again. 

I wish those around me would try and put their heads down too. 
It's always nice to have your struggles acknowledged.
To be asked if you're okay.

To have someone hear your silent tears. 

I am so tired of being all alone. 

Bitter Tears

I miss me.


I want to be loved so badly.

I tried my hardest today to put on a face that wouldn't let anyone see my hopes and disappointments fighting behind my phony smiles. I tried to turn today into a joke by wearing an ugly sweater with hearts and a family of sheep stitched across it. Ironically enough, I stopped trying for one moment and someone saw how I really felt. Jokingly she said it was the saddest thing she had ever seen, and jokingly, I said that I was just tired.

I guess I am tired. Tired of feeling worthless.

I think everyone wants to be loved. To have someone else think about you, dream about you and want to protect you. Obviously I've never been a guy, so I have no idea how their minds work when they find a girl that they really love. I'd like to imagine that a typical guy would go out of his way to be around her, and put forth effort to make her feel the same way he feels about her. This might sound horrible, but should also be a little jealous of other people that interact with her...monopolize her.

I don't have anyone I love right now or even anyone I "like".
I do want to fall in love though, and have someone fall in love with me...more than anything.
Sometimes, so much that it hurts. Almost like that burn that comes after or during a workout.
After all, the heart is a muscle too...

I was a little disappointed when no one sent me a "singing" Valentine, smiled my way, or even said "Happy Valentine's" today. I don't want a sappy high school hormone fit, I want something lasting.

Ha. I guess everyone does.

I wonder what it feels like to be in love. What does a hug from a boyfriend feel like? Is dating awkward, and when does it become natural? How do you become boyfriend and girlfriend? Is kissing all that it's cutout to be? Does kissing matter?...How do you kiss? What does love feel like? How do you know what love is?

I heard today that Valentine's Day is in honor of a priest who allowed Catholic couples to marry in a time when the Pope prohibited it...why have I never heard that before? I wonder if we should focus on the commitment side of the holiday rather than the romance...

I can't decide if I hate, or respect J. Alfred Prufrock more now.
Is he a coward, or a heart-breaker?

Has anyone ever loved me?

As far as love goes, I try to engulf myself in imaginary worlds rather than reality.
Hmmm...I do the same thing when I try to escape depression...

I have a "I need a boyfriend" playlist on my Ipod. It's full of songs that comprise of men singing of sweet nothings.

I'm scared that the media has increased my expectations of love.

I want to be loved.
But I guess I have to learn to love myself first.


I used to tell myself how unfair my situation in life was. How unfair it was that I had an eating disorder. How unfair that I fell from grace faster than I had risen to it.

Now that I look back, I think my behavior towards myself was more unfair than anything else.

I was a defeatist too often, and a bully to myself even more so. I constantly returned to my kitchen whenever I felt down, and binged too frequently to count.

I was my own worst enemy.

Today I had a small binge. I had been doing pretty well for the past week, and my resolve crumbled to resemble the crumbs that remained in the pan of brownies I attacked after school a few hours ago.

I am doing better, and I'm fairly optimistic about tomorrow.

I just don't know how many more too-small articles of clothing I can handle.

Grave Digging

                                                                  It always seems to be

                                       when I advance one step

                                                                                       I fall back two,
                                                                                                                           my own grave.


I don't really have much to say right now, but I definitely am feeling emotional.
I wish I was thinner. I wish that I could just say no. I wish I could find myself again.

Yesterday I spent the entire day sleeping and it felt nice to escape the world. Granted, I am a little PMS-y right now, but everything just seems so overwhelming at the moment.

Lately my depression has started to surface in my interactions with others. I don't really have much control over who I am anymore.

I don't know.
But I do care.


I would give anything to get rid of this eating disorder.
Ironically enough, I can seem to give up food.

Today was a bad day. I binged big time. I purged too.

I don't know what to do anymore. I feel like this shouldn't be as hard as it is.
I'm disappointed in myself for failing over, and over again.

I'm scared that one day I'm going to wake up and not recognize myself in the mirror. It's already starting.

I really have no idea where to turn, and I can't seem to find any silver linings.


God will always give us brief moments of sunshine between life's blizzards.


Sometimes, we just want others to see us through our own eyes.


Normally I wouldn't expect going to the temple to be a stressful event.

Boy was I sure proven wrong.

I can't help but wonder if my temptations to binge, and stress were magnified because I was going to finish up some family names...and someone didn't want me to go.

Either way, I did binge.

But, why?


One truffle, two

Why not four?

Banana slices,

Raspberry syrup
on blueberries, and
A carton of strawberries
With sugar
of course.

I forget,
Did I eat anything more?

It Hurts

I just want to be happy again.

I'm emotionally exhausted.

I was skinny once,
touched when told I was beautiful.


I have

Except fat to keep my heart warm.


Envy, lust,
luxe, greed.

and sorrow

Concerning purged dreams.

Did you know:

A half eaten box
of digested Lucky Charms


Teen Troubles

I was flipping through the channels today and came across a show on Lifetime called, "Teen Trouble". On the show, Josh Shipp, a teen behavior expert, tries to help teens overcome their drug addictions, or harmful behaviors. The episode I happened to watch was about a girl in California named Ashley, and she was addicted to meth, heroine, and other substances.

When Josh met with her, he said that we all know that addictive behaviors are destructive, but at least they feel familiar to us. Change is scary. He then went on to say when Ashley changes, she is the hero. It's her life at stake, and when she turns it around, she is the one to be celebrated. She was fighting the hardest battle of her life.

As I heard Ashley talk about her experience with addiction, I couldn't help but hear myself in her voice. Although our addictions are totally different, the emotions, and motions are similar. She said that once she started using, she felt like her soul just left and everything just kept getting worse. She felt worthless, and that made her use more. Josh went on to say that once she realized her value she would naturally want to protect herself. From drugs, abuse, and self-defeating thoughts. 

From the moment I started watching the show, I couldn't help but think back to my first visit to the FUN clinic with my mom. Ashley's mom acted almost exactly as my mom did. I guess I've resented my mom for the longest time for how she has treated me, and thought of me since learning of my addiction. She was never adequate enough for what I thought were my needs, and ignorant of how she talked of me to others. She didn't understand anything. She always turned the conversation back to her needs rather than mine at clinic visits, it seemed selfish to me. Just like a few weeks ago when she told my therapist that the reason why I still binged was because individually I didn't follow through on things. I hated her for how she acted. 

After watching Ashley's mom, I realized now that my mom felt just as much a victim as I did. I also realize though why my mom upset me so much. Josh told her that because she felt like a victim she couldn't resist fighting back when Ashley "attacked", but she was just putting gas on a fire, making things worse. She needed to spend less time arguing with her, and more time helping her. To not rage, but to disengage. I can't tell you how many times I wished my mom would have done this.  I felt disappointed if she wasn't calm or collected when I had a mental breakdown, which often angered me even more. I was emotionally raw, why couldn't she realize that?

 I'm not trying to pin myself as her victim, but I think that my addiction victimized both of us. She felt like she was trying to save herself from drowning, but forgot that I was drowning next her (and vice-versa). Ashley's mom went on to say that she felt betrayed by her daughter, and was hurt. 

It's funny to watch Ashley as she reacted to the consequences of her actions, she went from enraged to humble in thirty minutes. The same would happen to me. But she did need space when she was "flipping out", and Josh said it perfectly, "the best thing you can give them space". Heck, I can't tell you how many times I wished that my mom would just let me calm down on my own, let me get back to a rational level of thinking. 

Ashley said that she should be able to do anything to get her life back, herself back. I've thought the same thing so many times throughout the past two years. I guess I lost faith in myself and those around me. She also said that she used to try and keep her past life "private", she didn't want anyone to see what she had been doing, she would put up a wall so that no one could hurt her.  I've felt the exact same way. She struggled with the fact that her dad was distance physically, and I guess I've always struggled with my dad being distant emotionally. 

Ashley also relapsed, but she didn't give up. For a period of my life, I had given up after my first relapse. I still feel defeated whenever I fall back into old habits. I've relapsed four times, and each time is just as hard as the last. 

I'm not going to give up though...I hope.